The Tragedy of Eponine
by SylverMystress
Summary: Eponine's life has completed turned around! Now she seems to have a promising future...and has found Marius--but Eponine was one of "the miserable" for a reason. Please R&R!
1. Eponine Lives!

Disclaimer: I do not own Eponine, Marius, the Thénardiers, Cosette, or any of the characters of Les Misérables. For future chapters of this Fan Fiction story, I do not own Erik the Phantom or any of The Phantom of the Opera characters. Should there be other Les Miz/Phantom crossovers of similar nature, it is purely coincidental.  
  
  
  
1832, Paris…After the final battle at the barricade.  
  
Eponine woke amidst the smoky rubble of crumbled buildings and dead bodies. Her shoulder stung with a sharp pain as she tried to prop herself up on her elbow. Her left shoulder was still bleeding lightly from her bullet wound. Her hair was full of dust and smelled of gunpowder. Dried blood stained her coat and tangled her hair.  
  
Women and children wandered through the mass of dead bodies lying around her, picking pockets and looking for their dead husbands, sons, fathers, brothers. Everywhere Eponine could see, people were crying, tears streaking their dirty faces. Eponine tried to ignore the confusion around her as she strove to remember how she came to be where she was.  
  
"Marius." The word escaped her lips in a faint breath. I must find Marius! she thought to herself.  
  
Fighting the pain in her shoulder, she picked herself up from the ground. She rose swiftly, as if an angel had touched her forehead, allowing her live, yet leaving the rest of the dying bodies for the clutches inevitability.  
  
She made her way through the rue de Villette with frightful thoughts that her poor Marius was lying dead in the sea of lifeless rebels in the barricade. Holding her left arm still with her right hand, she escaped the battleground with tears drowning her eyes and a soundless cry caught in her throat.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Eponine wandered the city for hours upon hours. She cried aloud, not caring who saw her, ignoring those who tried to console her. All she could think about was her love, her darling Marius. Thoughts of him and his warm arms around her consumed her. Her parents, the students, Cosette…they never even had the chance to enter her mind. Marius! Marius…  
  
"Oh Marius!" she cried to the heavens. "Your words of love, they healed me, don't you see? Dear God above, can you feel the anguish I am experiencing? Please, let my Marius be alive. I pray to you Lord, for Marius' soul! Let him live! I need him in my life, please, let him be alive and well! Oh, Marius, my love! I don't know where you are! Do you live? Are you lost? Do you lie, injured, waiting for the touch of someone who cares? I love you! And I know you love me too! Marius, you love me too!"  
  
Eponine's ideas of the death of Marius escaped for a brief moment as she recalled the words he spoke to her. Her realization drew lovely tears from the bottom of her soul and she wept with happiness so full and strong, it banished all the harshness she'd ever felt in her life. But it was just a brief moment of bliss, and the terrible worry for Marius crept back upon her. She continued walking the streets of Paris, seeing Marius' face in the faces of young wounded men, in the half-broken windows of little shops, in the reflection in the river. Her heart ached without Marius.  
  
The night was flying in from the east. Eponine's thoughts of Marius were being broken by pangs of agony from her bullet wound. She stopped along the river to take a good look at her shoulder before night completely shrouded the city. She took her coat off and examined her wound. Her shoulder looked like it was nearly blasted off. She was weak. She knew she had lost much blood, but she was very fortunate. The bullet did not hit the bone. She leaned toward the river and cleaned her flesh with the sobering cold water. She winced as it ran through her open wound, but she gritted her teeth and resisted the urge to cry. After a few more examinations and cleanings, she ripped off a length of material from her coat and wrapped it around her shoulder twice before tying it.  
  
She shivered from the cold water and the chilly night breeze blowing over the river. As she got up, she gave a gasp. My coat! Where is it? She looked up and saw a young boy scrambling away with her main means of warmth. She screamed out and tried to run after him, but she was so weak from her wound. She could barely run a few feet without that stinging pain. Cold and disheartened, she trudged away from the chilly river wind, among the dark monstrous buildings of Paris. The dull ache in her arm draining her strength and her morale, she saw the huge shadowy structure of Notre Dame and collapsed just inside its great doors.  
  
"Marius," she whispered just before she passed into darkness. 


	2. The Comte de Riqueville

Disclaimer: Once again, I do not own Eponine or Marius, but Monsieur le Comte Arnauld Nicolas Gerard Erik Lazarus de Riqueville (whew!) is a character of my invention.  
Eponine awoke to a light jostling and the pungent scent of cigar smoke. It was dark in the spacious carriage she was riding in. The horses ran fast through the uneven cobbled streets of Paris, but the thick cushion of her seat protected her. She looked out the window to see the street light pass rapidly from her vision. Suddenly, there was a deep cough from the opposite side of the carriage. A man sat there in shadow. The only thing Eponine could make out of him was the lit end of his thick cigar.  
"Rest now, my dear. Do not waste your energy right now when you barely have a string of it left in your tiny little underfed body," said the man in a slight condescending tone.  
Eponine was inclined to mouth off to him about what she will or will not do, but she realized the man with the cigar was right. She was very tired and she sorely needed rest. She could deal with him later, after a bit of sleep. She lay her head back and let the rocking of the carriage lull her to sleep.  
* * * * *  
Eponine blinked her tired eyes several times. She could hardly believe what she saw before her. She lay in a magnificent mahogany bed with four intricately carved posters and lovely dark blue satin sheets. A fire blazed in the grand fireplace across the room from her bed. On the left side of the room, he windows stood half-hidden behind dark blue drapes that hung all the way down to a blue marble floor. On her right, a beautiful mahogany set of a table and two chairs stood between her and the door. The stale stench of cigar smoke hung in the air, reminding Eponine of the mysterious man in the carriage.  
Eponine looked down at her shoulder to see a white bandage with small spots of dried blood stained into the cloth. She untied the bandage and saw her misshapen wound sewed up. Her shoulder around the wound was brown and yellow, with dried blood caked around the stitches. She looked under the covers to see the same tattered rags she was wearing when she collapsed inside the doors of Notre Dame. She scrambled out of the massive bed and tiptoed over to door, the cold marble stinging her dirty bare feet. She opened the door softly and the soft heavenly sound the violin poured into her room. The music drew Eponine out of her room and as she further opened her heavy door, it groaned in protest. The music of the violin stopped. Eponine threw the door closed and leaned against it, her eyes darting left and right.  
"Where to hide!" she whispered aloud. "They will find me in this beautiful room! They have cured my injury and hand me over to Javert, or worse, send me back out to the street! Everyone I know is gone, I'm sure. And my Marius...Lord, I do not know where he may be!" Tears once again welled up in her eyes and as a shiver coursed through her body.  
Eponine gathered her wits and ran to the opposite side of the bed and crouched down to hide. She tried to steady her breathing when she heard that tattling door groan again. She crouched even lower and saw black shiny men's shoes. They walked over to the table and chairs and the creak of the chair signified that the man had sat down. Beads of sweat formed on Eponine's forehead as she panicked.  
Eponine slowly lifted her head and looked at the man. He was very grand, and very old. His grey hair was thick and meticulously styled. He had a small grey moustache and thin lips. His eyes held an inner light and intelligence, while his posture gave him a natural air of dignity. He took a long drag of his cigar and put it out in the tray on the table. He looked rather agitated.  
"Will you get up!" bellowed the man.  
Will I WHAT? Eponine's thoughts screamed. She did get up, and then she stomped over to the old man and stuck a finger in his face.  
"Don't you yell at me, old man!" cried Eponine. "I'm ready for all yer high- handed tricks! You've the mind to toss me into the jug or back onto the street, but theren't be no shoutin' at me! Nobody speaks that way to Ponine, old sir!" She crossed her skinny arms indignantly.  
The man looked a slightly stunned and then he smiled. "Yes, my dear," the man replied. "I am quite sorry for yelling at you. I should not have done that. What a horrible way to start off...the wrong foot, I believe they call it. Forgive me."  
Eponine kept her arms crossed. "Yer forgiven."  
"Then please have a seat, my dear."  
Eponine sauntered over to the opposite chair and plopped down.  
"What is your name, young one?" asked the man.  
"Eponine Thénardier. What's it to you? Who are you?"  
The old man stood. He was very tall. "I am Monsieur le Comte Arnauld Nicolas Gerard Erik Lazarus de Riqueville." He bowed.  
Eponine raised her eyebrow. "And how am I supposed to remember all of that? That name's longer than my arm!"  
The old man chuckled. "Just call me Uncle Erik, my dear. My given names all come from this or that ancestor from my family's past. I prefer to have those I know in an informal nature call me Erik."  
Eponine started at the words "informal nature". "Informal nature! Is that why you brought me here! So I could be your little at-home tart! You've got another thing comin', Monsieur, if you thing I'll stoop that far below my feet to make my livin'!" She made her way to the door.  
The Comte became enraged. "How dare you throw such a cruel accusation in my face! I didn't bring you here so I could have my way with you whenever I want! As if an underfed creature such as yourself could ever stir the embers of a man such as myself into a blaze!" His voice softened. "No, my dear, I brought you here to help you. I found you nearly dead inside the sacred doors of Notre Dame and with the permission of Monseigneur Gaurette, I brought you here to take care of your wound and give you food. And, my dear Ponine, it seems that you'll be here for quite a while from the looks of your condition."  
When the Comte addressed her as "Ponine", her heart ached. Marius always called her Ponine. Tears built up in her eyes, but she tried with all her might to hold them in.  
The Comte walked over to her and looked into her eyes. "I'm sure Marius is fine."  
The genuine sympathy in the Comte's voice, and the fact that he spoke Marius' name, let loose the dam that held her tears. She covered her face and bawled. Her thin body racked with every cry. She was such a pitiful sight, the Comte felt he had to put his arms around her and let her cry into his thick robe to console his heart as much as hers.  
When she was finished crying, the Comte pulled her away and held her face up to him. "Now, enough of that. I'll have my physician come and take a look at your wound. I'm sure you are very hungry. I'll have my housekeeper, Madame Devereaux, bring you some soup and a bit bread. Then, Madame will help you wash and find something other than rags to wear. We shall talk later about you and your situation, but now is not the time. Madame Devereaux will be here shortly." The Comte let go of her arms and turned to leave the room.  
"Um--?" said Eponine reluctantly before stopping herself.  
The Comte turned around with his eyebrows raised. "Yes?"  
"Who told you about my Marius?" she queried.  
"Why, you did my dear. Just before you collapsed right in front of me at the cathedral."  
"Oh."  
The Comte started to turn to leave again.  
"Uncle Erik?" started Eponine.  
"Yes, Eponine?" The Comte looked back at her with a pleased expression on his face.  
Eponine fidgeted a moment, seeming to find the right words to say to him. "I want to tell you I'm much grateful for takin' me in an' all."  
"You're welcome, Eponine. You are very welcome." 


	3. Daughter

**Standard Disclaimers apply…  
  
  
  
For the next year, Eponine lived with the Comte…her Uncle Erik. She ate meals with him and took walks with him in the forest surrounding his estate. He gave her lessons on math, literature, history, philosophy, and especially music. Madame Devereaux gave her lessons on etiquette and took her shopping for lovely dresses, shoes, gloves, coats, and the like. Madame's husband Monsieur Devereaux ran the stable and gave her lessons on riding horses. At night, after dinner and port, Uncle Erik and Eponine would pass of the day's time in the music room. Eponine had quite a lovely voice, and Uncle Erik would give her singing lessons while he played the violin. Eponine's shoulder prevented her from being a master at the violin, but she took to the piano quite easily, and when they didn't feel in the mood for singing, they played beautiful music together.  
  
When the first year anniversary of that fateful night neared, Eponine was fully cured. Although she was easily susceptible to catch colds, her previously sallow complexion turned healthy and her once malnourished body filled out to reveal that she had a beautiful figure. Her black hair adopted a lovely sheen and she walked with the elegant grace of a cat. Eponine's accent was refined, as were her language, knowledge, and manners. Her singing voice was enchanting, but when she played the piano, she could tear at the heartstrings of the most stoic person.  
  
The entire time that Eponine stayed with her Uncle Erik, she was always careful not to mouth off, which required her to swallow her jagged pride. She succeeded, but she always had a fear of one day being tossed out when it was decided that she had been helped enough. Uncle Erik knew about her abusive and criminal father and mother, and how she was key to many of their thefts and robberies, and she feared that her past would take hold of him and turn him against her. This fear agonized her, tore at her mind, and made it so she could not fully open up to her patient Uncle Erik.  
  
A couple of nights before the anniversary, she went to Uncle Erik's study. She knocked lightly on the door before entering. Uncle Erik was at his desk with a short stack of papers piled neatly in front of him. He was reading one and didn't look up.  
  
"One moment, I'm almost finished," he said distractedly. Finally, with a cough, he looked up. "Ah, Eponine! My dear, are you all right? You don't look very well." He gestured to a chair next to him. "Come, sit by Uncle Erik and tell him what's wrong."  
  
Eponine had kept a regular journal of her time with Uncle Erik. From her very first diary, there is an entry that describes the night she laid bare her thoughts and her consuming love for Marius whom she was sure was dead:  
  
  
  
  
  
Tonight was the night that I revealed to Uncle Erik my suspicions, my fears, and my entire past. I could no longer take terrible agony of knowing that I will be turned out from his care in the inevitable future. He is so incredibly patient with me. I've owed him the knowledge of my past for so long. Marius was not my brother as I had falsely led him to believe. He is the one true love, the love of all loves, and he belonged to me. As I unfolded my story to him about Marius, Cosette, the letter, the barricade, and the true emotions revealed in the moment when every spoken word counted, he sat there nodding his head from time to time and smoking his pungent cigars. "Uncle Erik, my Marius is dead. He is the only soul who truly loved me! And he told me so, as I lay dying in his arms! I feel like I betrayed him for living when—" I couldn't help the outpouring of tears that stopped me in mid-sentence. My poor Marius! Even at this moment, I cannot see my diary page clearly through the tears that are summoned from the memory of you! Whereas I sat in a pool of sorrowful tears, Uncle Erik's expression was so difficult to read! Marius, your memory was so painful, I couldn't continue on with my confessions with your trace in the air, so I told him about how afraid I was of not being able to find employment or a suitable home once he turned me out to the world once more. My tears were wrung from my body and my miserable past. In a fit of pathetic tears, I cried, "When will it be, Uncle Erik? Do not torture me with abruptness when that fateful day comes! I want to know now…when will I be turned out? When will my history get the better of me, and the suspicions of you?!" I wailed in sorrow, knowing that my outburst had surely done me in. I will be sent away tomorrow. "Good-bye, Eponine. May I never see your God-forsaken face for the rest of my years," I was sure he would say. A little of my old self crept back into me and I put a sly bargain out upon the table. I had heard snippets of conversation from the maids as they worked together in their tasks and I had found out that Uncle Erik was quite a lover in his day. I also found that although he always desired children, he never desired the complications that marriage entailed. Weeping, I pleaded, "Uncle Erik, I know that I am a poor substitute for a daughter. I have a shadowy past and came in to your life, nearly fully grown, but if you'll have me…What I mean to say is, that should you take me in as you would a daughter, I will take your name and become your devoted daughter. When you are sick, I shall care for you. When your eyes hurt, I will read to you. When your ears ache for music, I will sing and play for you. Uncle Erik, I consider you the father I always should have had, and I love you as a daughter loves her father." By now, my tears had stopped, and I was kneeling before him, looking into his clear blue eyes. I was sure I sounded convincing enough…but of course I doubted myself. All he did was chuckle and lean forward and give me a goodnight kiss on the forehead, just as if this night were like any other night. "Off to bed, dear Eponine. It is late." My bargain had been denied! I did as I was told, and when I stood up from my kneeling position, he took hold of my hand and held it between his old weathered ones. His face wore the expression of absolute bliss. He said softly, "Eponine, sleep tonight and do not worry about being turned out. You are my daughter from this night forth." As he pressed my hand against his warm cheek, a small tear fell from his eye. His words and his gesture overwhelmed me. I knew what he said was true. I hugged him for accepting me as his daughter, for alleviating so much of the sorrow I knew, for being so kind and patient and sympathetic…and I hugged him for the tear he shed for me. Let it be known that I am no longer Eponine Thénardier.  
  
I am Eponine de Riqueville. 


	4. Masquerade

Disclaimer: Blah, blah, blah…Eponine, Marius, etc….they're not mine…blah, blah, blah  
  
  
  
It was nearly two months after the night when the Comte had accepted Eponine as his daughter. Since then, Eponine still called the Comte "Uncle Erik", but they had grown so much closer. The Comte would take Eponine with him when he visited his groundskeepers, gardeners, farmers, and other tenants of the cottages on his land, which he tried to do each week. Every month, the Comte would travel through the town and visit the shopkeepers, blacksmiths, masons, and other working-class people of Riqueville. The Comte's count-ship wasn't incredibly demanding for Riqueville was a small town between the more important Le Havre and Rouen along the River Seine. Eponine's inclusion into his business was all so new to her, but she was managing quite well.  
  
One night, as the Comte and Eponine sat in the music room after dinner and port, the Comte interrupted Eponine in the middle of her piano playing. He had seemed rather distracted during dinner and acted as if something was weighing heavily on his mind. Eponine had come to the conclusion that if he was going to tell her what were his thoughts, he would do it in the music room.  
  
"Eponine, my dear." He said as he gestured for her to stop playing the piano. Eponine stopped, eagerly wanting to hear what he was going to tell her. Finally! she thought. I thought he was going to take an eternity to tell me!  
  
"Yes, Uncle Erik?"  
  
"Ever since we have become father and daughter, I have tried to include you into my business affairs. Well, now comes the somewhat political part of my business. There is a ball coming. I have ceased to go to most of them, but I go to one every once in a while to keep up appearances. They know that I am old, but you are not. You must attend, because one day you will become the Comtess de Riqueville."  
  
Something stirred inside Eponine. Comtess! Her insides flamed with happiness at the thought that he was truly making her his daughter and planning to bestow upon her his living responsibilities. It was in every way a dream come true. Uncle Erik truly was her Fairy Godpapa! But wait! thought Eponine. The only time I can become Comtess is if my Uncle Erik passes away! He is the only soul who is genuinely kind to me! He cannot die! I no longer have Marius! Should I also lose Uncle Erik, I shall be destitute!  
  
The Comte saw the amazement on her face turn into an urgent dismay. "Now, now, Eponine," he reassured. "I do not plan on dying any time soon if I have any say to it. I understand that my weakness for cigars is slowly shortening my mortal coil, and so I have resolved to only indulge on special occasions. I dearly love you, Eponine, my daughter, and I don't not think I'm wrong to say that you love me, too."  
  
"I do, Uncle Erik! I do!"  
  
"Good, then. No more tears. Let's talk more about this ball…"  
  
* * * * *  
  
The ball in question was to be a maquerade held in the nearby city of Rouen. Dukes, Barons, Counts, and some wealthy business owners were to attend. Masked balls were a favorite of many for the anonymity it offered. It was the perfect way to wedge Eponine into the life of a future Comtess.  
  
Uncle Erik had a simple black mask to match the simple, yet stylish black suit he planned to wear. With Eponine, he ordered that she be dressed " to look every bit the part of a future Comtess. I want her resplendent in reds. When I see her dress, I want the words simple, elegant, and ravishing to jump out at me. Whereas her dress will be discreet sophistication, her mask must be extravagant! I want it to be the loveliest bejeweled red mask that ever graced a woman's face! Diamonds! Many, many diamonds! Red silk! Gold thread! And I want it to be designed in such a way that would make me that someone sold his soul to the devil to get it! In that "Guess Who?" ball, I want everyone to be pining to find out who that lovely red creature is!"  
  
When the anticipated night finally came, Eponine stepped out of her room to find the Comte already waiting. She walked over to him and he had an expression of full approval on his face. Her dress seemed slashed by many shades of scarlet and her mask was a fantastic mixture of terror, beauty, and romance that covered her all her face except for her chin and crimson lips. Eponine was Desire incarnate. "My dear, you are absolutely breathtaking," he said. He held his arm out for her to take and they met the luxurious carriage waiting outside in the cool night air.  
  
When they finally arrived at the grand Château de Rouen where the masquerade was being held, they were met with mob of curious onlookers. Whispers spread among the crowd and everyone couldn't figure out who in the world was that lovely vision in red. Eponine kept close to her Uncle Erik, afraid that she would get lost in the enormous ballroom that hosted a throng of masked strangers.  
  
The ballroom was quite impressive. It had four gold and crystal chandeliers at each corner of the ceiling, but in the center, there was a magnificent chandelier that outshone the rest in detail and grandeur. The walls were crème with a golden marble floor. Everywhere Eponine looked, there were people in luxurious costumes and fabulous masks dancing, laughing, and drinking glasses of golden champagne. The masks ranged from plain to wild. There were many studded with expensive stones and other had feathers of many shades shooting out from the tops. Some masks were reminiscent of fairies with pastel colors and glitter all over them. Others were terrible and frightening with long crooked noses and sharp, evil eyeholes like demons. Some were misshapen goblins and others hair like trolls. It was like a nightmare and a dream all at once, but it was all very enchanting to her.  
  
Throughout the entire night, she was never without a dancing partner. The Comte joined her in a couple of dances at the beginning of the evening, but tired soon, and soon she was swept away into the mass of dancers. To her surprise, she often found several men bowing to take her hand. After a few hours of so much dancing, she finally tired basically had to escape the room to keep from getting a dance proposal. She didn't even care if she got lost in the chateau, she was just to exhausted to dance any longer. She grabbed a class of champagne and a nibble of cheese from a couple of passing waiters before escaping through a door opposite the ballroom from where she and Uncle Erik entered.  
  
She had entered a dimly lit hall that had only one other door at the other end. She went to the door at the end of the hall, the clicking of her hells echoing in the short hall. She was afraid the door was going to be locked, but when she tried the crystal knob, it turned easily as if it was often used. She could still faintly hear the music booming from the ballroom, but once she walked into this new room and closed the door behind her, the music seemed to no longer exist.  
  
She wondered if the chateaux could read people, because the hall had led her to a music room. All around the large, domed room were musical instruments of various kinds. The room was immaculate, not a speck of dust on anything, as a result of regular maintenance, but it still looked as if the instruments were hardly ever used. In the center of the room, there was a lovely white grand piano that seemed to call her name. She walked over to it and sat on the bench ran her hand lightly over the keys. She got up and raised the lid to see if there were any complications in the mechanism of the piano. It seemed in good condition and left it propped up. She heard the rustling of papers and went around to see that there had been sheet music on the lid that fell when she lifted it. She picket up the booklet and read it as she went back to the bench and sat down.  
  
Eponine set the music before her and tested the keys. They were perfectly in tune. Looking up to the sheet music, she began to play. The music was soft and romantic, yet full of a deep fervor of hidden angst. There was something dark in the lovely tune that the author of the music had seemed to catch perfectly. Eponine played the music expertly, binding herself to the music…her love, her past misery, her aching heart. She almost believed that an angel had led her to that room, and the piece had been written just for her.  
  
Eponine closed her eyes and swayed as she played the music a second time, having branded the notes into her memory. The music was easy to remember, impossible to forget. Tears streamed down her face and soaked into the silk fabric of her mask and she seemed lost in the music. The ball, Uncle Erik, her past, even Marius…they were all forgotten as she slipped into the music.  
  
Suddenly she was frightened out of her musical reverie when a man's voice, echoed by the large dome room, called out, "What do you think you are doing!" 


	5. The Skull and The Hawk

**Disclaimer: Okay, ONCE AGAIN, I do not own any of the Les Misérables characters…but the Comte de Riqueville and Antoine are mine.  
  
  
  
Eponine gasped as she jumped up from the piano bench. The man was in the shadows, but walked out to reveal himself to her. He had a brown jacket over a white shirt with a frilly white cravat wrapped around his neck. He wore dark brown breeches and white leggings and a terrible mask like a distorted human skull. He was very thin, which added to the skeletal-like impression. He seemed to reek of cruelty. Eponine disliked the man instantly.  
  
"I repeat, what do you think you are doing?" he demanded.  
  
She did not like to be startled, nor have demands made upon her, and all she wanted was a rest from dancing! Her old self started to emerge as her indignation built up. "I was washing my laundry," Eponine retorted, sarcastically. "What do you think I was doing?"  
  
He walked even closer to her so that his hideous skull-mask was only inches away from her own. "You have a sharp tongue for someone who has rudely left the party and wandered off in a home that is not hers," he said icily. "This chateau doesn't belong to you and neither does that piano that you were making yourself comfortable with."  
  
Eponine panicked. He was right. It was not her home and she should not have left the party. She risked slighting Uncle Erik's good name for her actions. She rid herself of her indignation and forced a polite smile. She bowed and said, "I'm sorry, Monsieur. I shall return to the masquerade immediately." She turned to go through the door she had come through.  
  
"Not that way," he said. "Nobody knows who you are and your spectacular costume has piqued the interest of many people. I'm surprised no others have seen you go through that door and followed you. You shall not reenter the same way and cause rumors. Follow me."  
  
He held out his arm to her and she reluctantly took it. He was a very stiff, uptight man and said nothing to her as they walked. On their way back to the party, they ran into a gay-hearted fellow dressed in light colors and mask to resemble a hawk. Apparently, the hawk knew the skull and, throwing his arms into the air, exclaimed, "Antoine! Where did you run off to? I was about to send out a search party!" Then, the happy man noticed Eponine and said, "What have we here, Antoine. A beautiful lady in red? No wonder you escaped!"  
  
Antoine acted in no way amused. "She wandered away from the masquerade and took it upon herself to make use of the music room, my good friend. I was just showing this little troublemaker back to the party and I will show her out the door should she be so discourteous again."  
  
Eponine's face became hot with embarrassment. She couldn't even speak; she was so shocked by the coldness in Antoine's voice. She got the impression that he knew something about her that she wasn't aware of. She felt as if she had unknowingly crossed a line of his and she was dangerously close to seeing his wrath. She was almost ready to protest when the happy young man said, "Antoine, what's come over you? Why are you so sullen? This is a fabulous masquerade and you are the only owner of a frown. Now, let me take this red lady off your hands so you can return to the party. Go, my friend! Drink, dance, and put a smile on your face!"  
  
Before Eponine could say a word, the hawk had swept her off toward the doors of the masquerade. Without her consent, he'd taken her right hand in his left, put his arm around her, and twirled her around the ballroom floor.  
  
"Now, my mysterious lady in red," he said as they danced. "I believe I saved your skin. So tell me, how did you ever upset Antoine to such a degree? His mood toward you could have positively curdled milk!"  
  
"Well," Eponine began carefully, "I was tired from dancing. Three straight hours of dancing! Every time I tried to take a rest, another man wanted to dance—"  
  
"I'm not surprised about that," he said admiringly. "You do cut a striking figure."  
  
Eponine began turning the shade of her mask.  
  
"—but I couldn't refuse all those kind men," she continued. "So when I found the right opportunity, I left through a door that led into a hall whose only other door led to the music room. There was a grand piano in the middle of the room…and I'm quite good with the piano, so I started to play a piece that I found on it. Then Antoine," Eponine cringed when she said the distasteful man's name, "came in and said I was being rude for leaving the party and was going to show me back when we met with you."  
  
"And…" the hawk said.  
  
"And?" replied Eponine, confused.  
  
"Well, there must be something else! Antoine seemed genuinely offended, and I don't see anything at all wrong in your actions from what you told me."  
  
Eponine stopped their dance. She was outraged. "Are you saying that I am be untruthful? Are you calling me a liar?" she cried.  
  
The hawk swept her back into dance before as he quickly said, "No, no, no, red lady. I am just saying that the facts don't seem to fit. Why don't we forget all about it and have a good time. It's passed, so it is of not matter."  
  
"Sounds like a splendid idea to me," she replied, her anger abated.  
  
They continued dancing without speaking and Eponine was surprised that every time a man tried to cut in, he would sweep her away to another area of the dance floor. Ever time she looked up to his face, his lips were curled as if always on the verge of a smile. He seemed like a very gay- hearted man, indeed.  
  
"So you are good at playing the piano," he inquired.  
  
She had an idea that the hawk had a slight mischievous tone to his voice. "Yes," said Eponine, suspiciously.  
  
Her intuition was not far off the mark. "Since I was so kind of to rescue you from an angry Antoine," he emphasized the word "angry", "will you play a song for me?" He cocked his head as he looked down at her as if it was the grandest idea in the world. His blue eyes sparkled behind his mask.  
  
Eponine hesitated. She was afraid that she had been "rescued" by a true troublemaker and she didn't want to cause and more fresh offenses. Suddenly, a large brass grandfather clock she had not yet noticed struck two o'clock, giving her a way to escape more mischief.  
  
"I'm sorry," she said as she pulled away. "I have to find my father. He will wonder where I am. I'm sure he is very tired by now. We are not staying the night, we are going straight home." She started to move through the crowd away from the hawk.  
  
"Wait!" he cried. "You at least cannot leave without at least tell me your name, lady in red." He looked bereft.  
  
Eponine couldn't help feeling sorry for him. Had he fallen for her? She couldn't tell; it was all so new to her. "Eponine! My name is Eponine!" she cried as she disappeared into the crowd.  
  
The man stood there, looking dumbfounded. From his lip, ever so quietly, a single word slipped.  
  
"Ponine…" 


	6. Antoine

**Disclaimer: Les Miserable and Phantom of the Opera characters are not mine. Of course, the Comte de Chagny in this chapter is supposed to be (in this fanfic) the grandfather of the Philippe and Raoul de Chagny in question, but since he shares the name of the two Phantom characters…let's just say I'm trying to save my butt from any hoity-toity lawyers. Once again, Erik the Comte de Riqueville is mine, as is the infamous Antoine.  
  
  
  
  
  
The next day, Eponine woke very late. As quickly as she could, she washed, dressed, and brushed her hair before looking for her Uncle Erik. The afternoon was warm and she found him in a chipper mood sitting on a bench inside the garden. She ran up to him and gave him a great hug. "I had such a wonderful time last night, Uncle Erik!" she cried as she sat down next to him. "What about you? Did you have a good time, also?"  
  
"It was a beautiful June masquerade, my dear. They are meant for young people, although I must say that I had a splendid time watching you dazzle everyone in the room," he said happily.  
  
"Well, it was a wonderful evening! The champagne was delightful! I danced so many dances…" she trailed off, not sure whether or not to tell him about the man named Antoine and the man in the hawk-mask. "I had a fabulous time," she finished.  
  
"Good, because it just so happens that we are invited to many dances, but I have accepted the invitations of a masquerade at the end of October and a ball in December, just before Christmas, and they're both in Paris. I think many witnessed you arriving and leaving with me and suddenly my name is on everyone's guest list. What do you say? You think you can stand spending a couple of months in Paris?" he asked.  
  
Eponine thought about when she was last in Paris. The Barricade in the rue de Villette, Enjolras and his fellow students, her poor Marius. Marius. It all seemed so long ago. The pain in her heart was still there, but rather than a sharp pang, it was a dull ache. Is it possible? she thought. Is it possible that I am getting over him? Marius, you were the only one who loved me. Do not hate me for hurting less.  
  
After a moment of silence, Eponine replied, "Yes, I'll go.  
  
* * * * *  
  
At the beginning of October, Eponine's thoughts about the oncoming travel consumed her thoughts. Paris was a city of dark memories…but perhaps she wouldn't even have the chance to see the sections of Paris where she had experienced such misery. She tried to put the memory from her mind. The dull ache threatened to become worse with every recollection. To distract her, she wrote into her journal about the previous and oncoming masquerades:  
  
  
  
I wonder if this masquerade shall be the same as the last. I wonder if that angry young man named Antoine will be there. I hope not. He is not the kind I would like to associate with, ever. He seemed like he was so full of hate and rage and it was all directed at me. And the man with the hawk's mask—I wish I'd asked his name! Will he be there, too? I often wondered about him. He seemed so happy and jolly…and unlike anyone that would want to be friends with that detestable Antoine. I wonder what they look like without their masks. I'm sure Antoine is absolutely hideous. I'm sure he will resemble the mask he wore. Demon-like. Skeletal. As for the hawk, I'm sure he is good-looking and makes you want to smile. I'm sure his face will light up any room and he has many, many friends. Unlike me. I hope I shall make friends in the future. I hope I shall make friends with him. I guess I shall have to ask him for his name, first. Most likely, I will not see either of them at the upcoming masquerade. I will probably run into a whole new crowd of masqueraders.  
  
My mask and my dress were finished today! My mask is black velvet with peacock feathers that splay out from the top as if a little peacock is sitting behind the mask rather than my face. Little diamonds dot the outside of my eyes as a glamorous addition. And my dress! It is pitch black with streaks of turquoise, blue, violet, bronze, and silver strategically laid into it to match the peacock mask. The neck is cut low with the bodice fitting tightly down to my hips where it smoothly flares out in a simple dress with a very short train made of peacock feathers. It is so becoming. In fact, too becoming. I'm almost sure people will think that I am like the whores that occupied the streets along the harbors at night. I addressed my concern to Uncle Erik and all he said was that it complements my black hair and black eyes. I guess the Paris masquerade is a more important occasion than the Rouen ball, for I am to have a specialist put my hair up and decorate it with diamonds and glitter.  
  
As for the unmasked ball in December, I will have a dress made for me in Paris. I asked Uncle Erik if I could have a blue dress and he told me that I shall have the loveliest blue dress, that would make the wide ocean turn green with jealously. Uncle Erik is too kind to me.  
  
* * * * *  
  
In mid-October, they rode to Paris where they lodged in the spacious home of the Uncle Erik's cousin, the Comte Philippe Raoul de Chagny. He was a kind old fellow with few cares. He had known of his good cousin's situation with Eponine for quite a while, and although he didn't give his opinion of whether or not he approved, he accepted it all the same as the wish of his generous cousin Erik. The Comte de Chagny had told his family of the situation, and they were to accept their new relative as Uncle Erik's daughter and as if she were blood. If Erik wanted this to be so, then so it shall be, for it was also somewhat advantageous for them. Where Eponine lacked the bloodlines, she made up for in beauty and talent and eventually, the count-ship. She would be a perfect match for their son, and the two count-ships could be united…especially since the Chagny's had been experiencing some financial problems. Although never vocalized, these observations were on the Comte de Chagny's mind and he began to wonder if Eponine was heaven sent.  
  
Eponine was greeted very warmly by the Comte and Comtesse. She had a beautiful blue room to lodge in and was told to make herself at home; that everything in the Chagny estate was at her disposal. She was not aware of the inner workings of the Comte de Chagny's brain, so she just thought that he was just a normally jolly man, showing nothing but kindness and generosity toward her.  
  
It was the morning after Eponine and Uncle Erik's arrival at the Chagny household when Eponine sat on the bench of the Chagny's piano in the entertaining room. It was October 27, 1833. Marius would have been twenty- two today, she thought. A tear streaked down her cheek. She decided to play a sad song. Low and soft. Just for Marius. She laid her fingers on the keys and escaped into the music. Tears continued to stream down her face, but she did not stop nor cry out. It was a song to remember by to sooth the pain, rather than reopen the wound. When she finished the song she sat there for a moment, unable to move. Suddenly, behind her, there was a slow clapping. She quickly turned around. A young man stood there, his hands still held together from his last clap.  
  
He was very good looking. Tall and sleek with blonde hair and dangerous grey eyes that pierced. He wore rich, sophisticated clothes that magnified his physical charm. She felt at such a disadvantage. Her face was most assuredly splotched from her tears, and he looked like a Roman god. She felt her confidence draining quickly with every passing second. His thin lips were curved into a smirk as he sauntered over to her and—to her surprise—sat right down next to her on the piano bench…a little too close for comfort.  
  
"Lovely playing. I assume cousin Erik taught you that piece," he said knowingly.  
  
Eponine couldn't put her finger on it…but there was something about this young man that seemed familiar. She'd never seen his face before, but something told her that she knew him from somewhere…and also to tread carefully when he was around. He had a cruelty that emanated from him, a coldness in his eyes, a chill about his soul. He was staring directly into her eyes and his haughty attitude was making her uncomfortable. Despite his undeniably good looks, she felt repelled by him. She tried not to recoil, but she couldn't help it.  
  
"Yes, he did," she said. She was getting very upset the way he kept looking her over and seemingly assessing her. "How long had you been standing there?" she demanded.  
  
"For a while," he said, still taking her in with his cold, dead eyes. His attitude told Eponine that he was someone important in the house. Then, she remembered that the Chagny's had a son.  
  
"You must be the Comte de Chagny's son," Eponine guessed.  
  
"My name is Antoine de Chagny, the future Comte de Chagny," he replied in a rather snobbish tone. "Yes, I am my father's son."  
  
Eponine's mind went wild. Antoine. Antoine! The unkind young man at the masquerade! "I know you!" Eponine exclaimed as she shot up from her seat and backed away. "You were at the masquerade in Rouen in June!" Her thoughts distracted her concentration as she went over what she had written in her journal. He is not hideous. He is handsome…but all the more deadly.  
  
"And YOU still act as if all pianos are Eponine's pianos." He spat her name like an insect that flown on his tongue.  
  
"I have permission!" protested Eponine. "Besides, I wasn't hurting a soul by my playing. Except yours, perhaps. I don't know if you reserved this malicious attitude exclusively for me, but you act like a little stubborn boy who refuses to share his toys with his playmates."  
  
Antoine stood up and walked quickly over to Eponine. Her body went tense as ran his hand through her dark lock. His face wore a dangerous smile. "You want to be my playmate?" His voice tinkled like ice. He brought his other hand to her neck and caressed it. For the moment, she couldn't move. She was afraid of what he'd do if he were further incensed. "That can be arranged." He stopped fondling her hair and lifted her chin to look into her eyes. "But not tonight. I have plans."  
  
He kept looking into her eyes for such a painfully long time that she was afraid he was going to kiss her, or something more unpleasant. Finally, just when she was about to push him away and call him a few choice names, he cruelly shoved her chin away from him before he walked out of the room.  
  
Her cheeks were burning from anger and rage. How dare that bastard treat me like trash! Eponine thought wildly. I am not the dirt beneath his shoe! She gathered her thoughts as she stormed out of the room to find him; she didn't want to leave it there. She reached the foyer when she heard Antoine's voice.  
  
"Tell my father that I will be gone for a couple of days." He was talking to Jacques, the Chagny's butler who was helping Antoine put on his coat. "It's Pontcy's birthday today and I'm going up to Montreuil-sur-Mer. I should have gone last night, but I got caught up in other…activities." He gave a despicable chuckle. "Just as well, I shall still be in time for the festivities and I really do not enjoy staying at his home. It is so old and draughty. As a reminder, Jacques, Pontcy and his repulsively conservative wife are riding back with me and I will drop them off of at the Hotel Paris. I told Pontcy that he is completely welcome to stay in my home, but he said that he doesn't want to intrude and already booked a couple of nights at the hotel." Antoine checked himself in the mirror and sniffed as he said, "His wife hates me and I'm sure she refused to stay here."  
  
Antoine took his hat from Jacques and set it on his head, tilting it to one side. "Until tomorrow, Jacques!"  
  
Eponine returned to the piano room. "Pontcy," she said to herself. "What an unusual name! I wonder if he is the mysterious man behind the hawk. If he is, I hope he has a happy birthday celebration. Speaking of birthdays…" Eponine returned to the piano and began playing another song in memory of her lost love…  
  
Marius. 


	7. Two Peacocks

Eponine felt completely uncomfortable in the Chagny home ever since her encounter with Antoine. And she would have to be their guest for two months! She wasn't sure if she could bear it. Still, she kept the incident secret from her Uncle Erik. She was sure that Uncle Erik loved her, but nevertheless, he had known the Chagny's for years and years and it would hurt him to experience a conflict between people he cared for.  
  
Eponine didn't see Antoine until the night of the masquerade, two nights after he left to see his friend. She came down the grand staircase and saw him standing there with that terrible smirk on his face. She wished she could slap that expression off of him, but she swallowed her irritation and kept walking down the stairs. What is he so happy about? she wondered, not liking the feeling in the room. The Comte de Chagny and his overly elegant wife, Heloise, were standing near the doorway talking quietly to each other.  
  
Heloise looked up and saw Eponine at the bottom of the stairs. "Ah, Eponine! Your costume is absolutely fantastic!" she exclaimed as she ran over to her. Then she frowned. "But, Cousin Erik is not feeling well tonight. He will not be able to escort you to the masquerade," she said in a too-tragic voice.  
  
Eponine blanched. "Uncle Erik is sick?" she cried. "I must go to him."  
  
Before she could say anything else, Antoine sped over to her and offered her his arm. "Then let me take you to him," he said in a happy tone, yet his eyes still cold as frost.  
  
Eponine couldn't help the incredulous look on her face, but took his arm anyway. He put his surprisingly warm hand over hers and walked her to Uncle Erik's room.  
  
"I'm not a dog, you know," she said, obviously annoyed. "I can walk myself. I don't know what you're up to, but I do not like it."  
  
Antoine said nothing, which angered Eponine even more. His face still held that secretly amused expression.  
  
Uncle Erik was lying in his bed, reading a book when Eponine entered. She snatched her hand away from Antoine's and rushed over to Uncle Erik.  
  
"Are you all right?" she cried as she took one of his hands hers.  
  
Uncle Erik chuckled and said, "Yes, I'm fine. I just don't feel up to going to the masquerade tonight. The damp Paris air is affecting my lungs and causing me coughing fits. It is better that I do not go." Uncle Erik patted Eponine's hand. "But you go and have a lovely evening."  
  
"First off, I don't have an escort since you feel under the weather," Eponine said determinedly as she pulled off her mask. "Secondly, I told you that I would take care of you. I will stay here with you and make sure you get enough coffee or tea and medicine. I'll read to you so you can fall asleep more easily, and I'll sing you a song or two, if you'd like. You won't have to get up for anything."  
  
Uncle Erik looked genuinely touched. "I am so happy that you care for me so much," he said. "But I want you to go to the masquerade and have fun tonight." Eponine looked as if she were going to protest, when he gestured to Antoine and said, "and Antoine said that he would be delighted to escort you since I am not able to."  
  
Eponine looked back at Antoine who looked triumphant. She didn't want that odious creature escorting her anywhere, but she couldn't refuse Uncle Erik's wishes. Reluctantly, she gave in.  
  
"All right," she said with a defeated sigh. "I'll go."  
  
"Good," said Antoine, signifying it was the end of the discussion. "We must go now, dearest Eponine. Father and mother have already left. The masquerade has already begun and it wouldn't do to be too incredibly late." He pulled Eponine out the door before she could say good-bye.  
  
"Unless, of course, you would like to be incredibly late," he said suggestively, making Eponine cringe.  
  
"You are absolutely despicable, Antoine."  
  
* * * * *  
  
The masquerade was even grander than the one Rouen. There were more people and the ballroom was twice as big, twice as magnificent. Had Antoine not been her escort, she would be completely in awe, but his presence was putting a damper on the evening.  
  
He acted very regal, walking with his back stiff, and addressed everyone as if he were superior. He's so vain, thought Eponine. I can't believe I'm escorted by him tonight!  
  
He immediately brought her to the dance floor and took a commanding lead. The way he danced made her feel as if she were just an ornament to make him look better, and that she didn't exist unless she made a wrong step. They danced this way for an hour. He didn't speak a word to her; he just looked at her haughtily through his skull-like mask. This one was similar to the last one, except it had horns. I wonder if he has a set of hideous skull masks, she wondered.  
  
Finally, he deigned to speak to her. "I'm tired," he said. He walked her off the dance floor, making Eponine bypass many dance proposals by forcing her forward until they reached a table and two chairs.  
  
Eponine was enraged by now. She turned around and looked him in the eye when they reached the table. "How dare you force me like that! I had many dance proposals that I wished to take!"  
  
Antoine's eyes were like cold steel. He pushed her down into her chair and leaned his face in close to hers and said in a violent whisper, "Don't you defy me, you--"  
  
Before he could finish speaking, a man with a familiar gait and voice put his hand on Antoine's shoulder, and cried, "Antoine! You made it, then! Why do you always wear those ridiculous death masks?" the man chided. "Everyone knows it's you when you wear them. Cos has expressed a wish to have a dance with you. Why don't you both take off to the dance floor and have some fun?" He pushed a woman in bronze that was standing next to him and Antoine off to the dance floor before they could protest.  
  
Eponine knew right off who this man was; he was the hawk from the last masquerade. Except tonight, he was dressed like a peacock! Eponine looked up at him in awe and gratitude.  
  
"Why, if it isn't a fellow peacock!" he exclaimed. "I must say, you are more ravishing as the beautiful pheasant than I," he said with an appreciative look in his eyes.  
  
This man had a knack for making her blush. He was so happy and it seemed contagious. His smile was broad and engaging, and he seemed to radiate cheerfulness. Eponine already felt much better with him nearby.  
  
"I could be wrong, but I have a feeling that you are the red vixen from the masquerade in Rouen," he said. "And if I am right, then that means that I have saved you once again from the terrible wrath of Antoine the Furious."  
  
Eponine became angry. "Antoine is a stupid sack of cow filth," she said. "He thinks that just because he landed the role of my escort tonight that he can force me around."  
  
"Ah, I see," said the man.  
  
Eponine narrowed her eyes. "I wonder. Are you the man he calls `Pontcy'," she guessed.  
  
"That I am!" he said as he stood up and bowed. "And, shall I have this dance?" He held his hand out to her.  
  
She took it and they danced out onto the ballroom floor, amazing some of the onlookers with their skill and their carefree attitudes.  
  
"You know, you remind me of someone I used to know," Pontcy said.  
  
Eponine laughed. "I thought that about you when I first met you. You seem so familiar to me, but that often seems the case when you meet gay-hearted people." She paused. "What do you do?"  
  
"Well," he began. "I run a factory in Montreuil-sur-Mer. It is quite prosperous. It was started by my wife's father. He was quite an ingenious man. It is the business of the town. Almost everyone in Montreuil-sur-Mer works there."  
  
Eponine felt a little sad at the fact that he was married, but smothered it. "Was that your wife? The one that you told to dance with Antoine?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"She didn't look very happy about it."  
  
He threw his head back and laughed. "Well, Cos isn't very fond of Antoine. Not at all." He spun Eponine around before he continued, "In fact, she hates him. But I couldn't let you sit there and be called names by Antoine, and it wouldn't do for me to ask Antoine to dance, now would it?"  
  
Eponine erupted into laughter. "No! It wouldn't do at all!"  
  
The man cocked his head to the side and looked down at her with a curious look. "Your voice is so familiar. You remind me of someone..." He looked up as he trailed off.  
  
"Who, Pontcy?" Eponine giggled. "Who do I remind you of?"  
  
They had danced to the edge of the floor, when Pontcy pulled her from the dance and into a hallway that led to another hallway that led into a massive library.  
  
He stood with his back to her as if he were thinking very hard. Eponine was startled and confused. Why did he stop our dance? Why did he bring me in here? she thought. She was just about to voice her thoughts when he spoke.  
  
"Maybe you seem familiar because you share her name," he began. He sounded shaken. "There was a girl I knew when I was younger and her name was Ponine."  
  
Eponine couldn't believe her ears. When he said "Ponine", she could almost believe...But no, he was dead and gone. But still, the man's voice! It is so like...  
  
Hardly above a whisper, she spoke. "Marius?" 


	8. Peacocks Unmasked

**Disclaimer: I don't own Les Misérables or Phantom of the Opera charcters. I own Uncle Erik, Antoine, Heloise, Jacques....blah, blah, blah....  
  
Author's Note: I'm so sick of disclaimers. Sorry for the incredibly long slump, I had major jet lag and I had to return to slavery at a local grocery store. Although, it would help if I had a few more reviews. (hint! hint!) I do appreciate the reviews I have received and I hope that you're all enjoying the fanfic!  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Pontcy still stood with his back to Eponine. He slipped off his peacock masked and turned around. Indeed, it was Marius. Eponine's thoughts went into a whirl. All this time she had fought to free her soul of his "death". She didn't know how to accept this. Marius! Alive! And right in front of her in the flesh. Could it be a miracle? Could it be the hand of God?  
  
Her legs felt weak, as if they were about to give way under her. A sob escaped her throat and she burst into tears as her knees buckled. Marius was quick and he caught her before she could fall. Tears streamed down his face as he held her close to him and cried, "Ponine! But Ponine, I held you in my arms and felt your last shallow breath brush against my cheek. Your blood was stained into my coat! You told me not to worry, that you didn't feel anymore pain. You died, Ponine! You died! A little piece of me died with you! Does this mean I never lost it?"  
  
Eponine's soul exploded as she cried into his shoulder. She couldn't speak, she just wanted to have him hold her against him...Him! So warm and full of life! She stepped away from him when her tears weren't so abundant and took off her mask and tossed it aside. Marius was struck by her startling beauty. Even when she was a scrawny street rat, having to survive by her cleverness, she had the hints of true beauty, but now that had acquired the posture, diction, articulation, and elegance of a lady, she was breathtaking. Her once dirty dark locks shimmered I the yellow candlelight. Her black eyes dazzled from underneath the veil of her thick dark eyelashes. Her rosy cheeks set off her flawless porcelain complexion, and her full succulent lips were painted red and seemed to beckon Marius to them. He felt a strange urge to press his fingers against those lips...to rub off her lipstick and kiss her undressed lips. He was surprised at himself. He loved Eponine, but as if she were a  
little sister. But little sisters don't enflame your passion in this way, he thought.  
  
Eponine held Marius' face between her hands, relishing the beauty of his actual face, not just a memory. His sandy locks curled about his face as he smiled brilliantly down at her. His blue eyes glimmered with love and happiness as his cheeks were still damp from his tears. Am I the cause of this happiness? she wondered. She wiped away his tears and caressed his face, needing to know he was real, that she wasn't just dreaming. The love of all loves, right here in front of me when I previously thought all was lost. "Oh, Marius," she cried. "I've said this to you before, but you didn't hear me because I thought you were in Heaven...but it was your love that saved me. Those words which you whispered in my ear as I was barely clinging to life, they made all the difference! It was because of you that I triumphed over death and...and...why I'm alive today. Marius, your love lifted me from death!" Eponine wrapped her arms about Marius and hugged him fiercely, thinking that if she  
didn't hold on to him, he would disappear and she would wake up in tears in the room at the Chagny's.  
  
Marius held her against him, thinking the same thoughts. My dearest Ponine, alive and well! Her death was the worst death I ever experienced during the battles. And there was no death at all! He squeezed her firmly one more time. "I feel like I'm shedding away a black film of grief and I'm about to burst with gaiety!" he cried as he wiped tears from his cheeks. "Eponine, let's sit down. I want to know about everything. Everything that happened to you since the barricade."  
  
Eponine was still weeping lightly, but with happiness, as if she'd purged herself of Marius' supposed death. Yet, she was still a bit wary, as if this was a horrid trick of dreams. She followed him to a sofa and sat down next to him and leaned against him. He put an arm around her and gave her a light squeeze. "Eponine, I feel so wonderful now that you're alive. I feel that we both have experienced so much change, yet both are the same people. Tell me of everything that happened to you."  
  
She began to tell of when she woke up. She told of her shoulder, Notre Dame, of lovingly of her "Uncle Erik". Marius sensed the emotional attachment to her adopted father and he felt that he must meet the man and to give him his thanks for taking care of Eponine. Their conversation was full of emotion and many tears were wrung from them, but the dark cloud of sorrow which still lingered over them eventually disappeared by their discovery of one another and their joyful reunion.  
  
Marius told her about how Jean Valjean, Cosette's father, saved her. How when Cosette and he married, he took over the responsibilities of the jet that Jean Valjean had founded. Marius and Cosette have lived in Valjean's old house ever since he took over the business in Montreuil-sur-Mer. Also, because he's a profitable business owner and his factory creates the jet that creates many fashionable pieces of jewelry and decorates dresses and costumes (not to mention masquerade masks), he is often invited to many social engagements. It was at one of these society parties where he met Antoine a few months back, and they became fast friends.  
  
Marius sighed. They had been talking about their experiences since the barricade and rehashing their shared memories for the last hour. "It must be that sense of humor that fate has," said Marius. "Ponine, we were destined to meet again to console each other's hearts on all that happened. It seems so long ago when it was only almost two years ago..." he trailed off.  
  
"Oh Marius, don't mention it!" pleaded Eponine. "It is past...and now that I know that you're alive and well, it was never as bad as I thought. I was never as desolate as I thought."  
  
Eponine said these words, but in her heart, although she felt happy to have found her Marius, she also felt empty...like a shell of what she had once been. Cosette and Marius. They are married and they live in Montreuil-sur-Mer. They are probably happy. I will never be. Marius is here and well, but I am dying inside! She sighed inwardly and decided to cry about it later. Right now, Marius was here and they were together, even if it's just for a couple of hours. They were together.  
  
They sat in a silence for a few minutes until Marius said, "You never did play a song for me."  
  
Eponine remembered the last masquerade when Marius "saved her skin." She giggled and said, "No, I didn't."  
  
"Well, I'm sure I could find a piano somewhere in this enormous chateaux. He stood up and offered her his arm. "Mademoiselle?"  
  
Giggling, she shot up and took it. "Where to, Monsieur?" she mocked.  
  
"Why, I believe that the entertaining room is--"  
  
Marius was interrupted by a familiar female voice. "Marius! There you are!"  
  
It was Cosette. She was speaking to Marius, but she was looking directly at Eponine with an expression of anger that could melt iron. 


	9. The Triumphant

**Disclaimer: C'mon...this was covered in the last chapter, remember?  
  
Eponine was so startled by the hard expression on Cosette's face that she quickly pulled her hand away from Marius, whose face held surprise and confusion all at once. Cosette was decked in shades of bronze, a color that didn't match well with her pigeon-brown hair. From what Eponine could remember, Cosette had always had a child-like face, but now there were wrinkles about her mouth and little crow's feet at the corner of her eyes. Her once deep blue eyes seemed paler...and colder. What happened to her? wondered Eponine. She looks so old!  
  
"Cosette!" cried Marius. "What is wrong? You look very upset!" He ran to Cosette. "Are you all right?" he said quietly.  
  
Cosette didn't even look at him when he approached her and put his hands on her shoulders. She pushed Marius away and walked slowly toward Eponine, her look of anger mixed with disbelief. "You!" she said in a low voice. "But you're dead!"  
  
Eponine heard the undisguised disappointment in Cosette's voice and was deeply offended...and outraged. "That, I guess, was the general assumption. Yes, I was shot at the barricade, but I did not die, dear Cosette." She made the word `dear' sound like a curse. "I am very much alive, to the obvious disappointment of you."  
  
Cosette's demeanor had changed over the short span of time since Eponine had played matchmaker for Marius during the revolt. Before, she seemed naïve, lovesick, and oblivious to anything and everything that didn't concern her. Perhaps she still only thought about her, her, her, but the façade of innocence was gone. Cosette was still very pretty, but now that she had discovered that Eponine's status had gone from deceased to living and thriving, her prettiness seemed only like a hard shell that covered a vortex of coarse emotions.  
  
Cosette looked at Marius and recovered her equanimity. "Eponine, you mistake surprise for disappointment! I am happy that you are alive and well! It's only that Marius told me that you died and that he was there when you died...it's a bit of a shock to see you, well, alive!" she said with an almost expressionless face.  
  
Deep in Eponine's heart, she knew the real Cosette was the angry woman with the undertones of hatred in her voice. Eponine acted politely toward Cosette, but felt that there was something very wrong about her.  
  
"Marius--" started Eponine, but she was cut off by Cosette who had put her arm around Marius' waist.  
  
"Eponine, I believe Antoine is looking for you," said Cosette in monotone. "Marius, I'm tired. Let's go back to the hotel."  
  
Marius stared at her like he couldn't believe his ears. "But Cosette! Don't you see what a wonderful occasion this is?! We three are survivors! We have come up from the ashes of misery. I from the endless scrutiny of an old man who never seem satisfied. You, from a daily life of loneliness. And Ponine, from the hardest life of us three...days on the street of not knowing when God would finally finish his torture of abuse and crime. You, Eponine shall be awarded best of all." He looked at Eponine with understanding eyes.  
  
Eponine acted happy for Marius' burst of inspiration, but she died inside as she watched Cosette's little intimate movements on Marius. As Marius continued his speech of positive turnabouts, she saw Cosette straightening his peacock feather-bordered collar, pressing herself closer to him, entwining her fingers in his with her free hand, and pulling his arm around her thin waist. She acted as if Marius was talking into a mirror...as if Eponine was still dead or never existed.  
  
And how could Eponine compete with the lawful wife of the man she adored? Yes, she still adored him still...his sunny complexion, his ready smile, and his exuberant attitude towards life. Cosette looked up at Marius with wanting eyes, not desiring, not loving, not even lusting, but with subtle dominance that demanded attention immediately. Eponine could not read Cosette's mind, but she has seen the look in her own conniving mother's eyes and knew what Cosette was doing. She was going to make Marius give in to her way.  
  
"We have gone from the Miserable to the Triumphant!" cried out Marius as he finished.  
  
Eponine heard these last few words and felt like a match was struck in her. Yes, had come all the way up from the grimy bottom of existence. Years of being unclean and wondering when the next meal was going to come and if her con was good enough or if she was going to be thrown in jail. Of wondering when she was finally going to give up or give in. And now...was she not beautiful and desirable and have her own free will? Did she not have a devoted father now? Was she not a future Comtesse?!  
  
"Yes! From the Miserable to the Triumphant!" she exclaimed. She pulled on her mask and taking Marius' mask, put his on him. She grabbed his hand and jerked him away from Cosette. "Now Monsieur," she said laughingly, "let's go dance a triumphant one that only strutting peacocks can dance!" She did not even glance back to see the curdling look on Cosette's face.  
  
"Strutting peacocks, eh?" laughed Marius as he tried to keep up with Eponine. "Come with us, Cosette! You're not a peacock tonight, but you must dance with us!" But Cosette did not join them as they ran to the magnificent ballroom.  
  
Eponine pulled Marius on the ballroom dance floor and pulled his arm snugly around her waist, pressing her chest against his abdomen. She needed a little of that award Marius spoke of...right at that moment. She could see the surprised expression on his face and said, "I'm going to dance the shoes off of your feet, Monsieur."  
  
He looked down at her with daring eyes and replied, "And I am up for the challenge, Mademoiselle." Eponine threw her head back and laughed as he charged into a lead, moving her through an energetic dance.  
  
The band played with the enthusiastic motivation of the two glorious dancing peacocks. Bows grated down onto violin and cello strings with urgency as the sound of the piano seemingly galloped over the strings. Eponine's becoming dress flowed like black smoke through their dance, keeping up with every graceful spin and twirl Marius maneuvered her through. Her cheeks were hot and her body was covered with sweat, but it was a jubilant sweat. Liberating and free like a soaring eagle.  
  
Everyone's attention was focused on Marius and Eponine. They flew across the floor, gliding like fish through water. Women gasped and men gaped and everyone felt the surge of energy and happiness.  
  
Everyone except two people. 


	10. Lovelorn

As Marius and Eponine danced the late night away, a shadow watched them from the end of one of the two room-width balconies. Tears glistened in her angry eyes as she observed the happy scene below her. She tore at the end of her taffeta dress with her hands as thought of different ways of hurting the beautiful black-haired peacock who was dancing with her husband.  
  
A hot breath blew against her shoulder. Cosette turned in surprise. She narrowed her eyes. Another hated person stood next to her, smirking as usual. Antoine.  
  
"What do you want, Antoine?" she asked, irritated.  
  
He looked at her with his steel grey eyes and said, "I want what you want."  
  
"And how do YOU know what I want?" Cosette asked incredulously.  
  
He wasn't sure if he should tell her, but Antoine was right outside the door of the library and heard every bit of conversation that had passed between her, Marius, and Eponine. "I…I can tell by the look on your face," he said simply.   
  
Cosette was quiet. Down below her and Antoine, two very happy people danced together. She knew Marius loved her. She also knew Marius loved Eponine before Eponine "died" and Marius loved her still, but now Cosette was actually in danger of losing Marius this time. She turned her attention from Marius and examined Eponine. Eponine was now utterly beautiful. Even Cosette had to admit that. Eponine had cleaned up herself, become svelte, sophisticated, and articulate…and more of a threat.  
  
Antoine leaned in closer to Cosette's ear and switched his voice to that hypnotic persuasive tone that usually had women dropping their knickers under his spell. But this time, he wasn't interested in any risqué. He had a plan in mind.  
  
"Cosette, look down there," he said as he gestured to the beaming faces in which Marius and Eponine were the center. "That is supposed to be YOU. You are Marius' real lady peacock. Not Eponine. She is not good enough for Marius. You are." He put his arm around her shoulders and smiled inwardly when he felt her cringe. "Come with me, Cosette. I will win you Marius' full and uninterrupted attention. But I will need your help."   
  
*****  
  
As the masquerade ended in the early Paris morning and nearly half of the guests had left or retired in their rooms and the music had softened, Marius and Eponine sat in a quiet corner reminiscing about old times.  
  
"And remember the time you were trying to keep up with me as we were running and trying to get out of the rain?" Marius laughed as he slapped his hand down on the table.  
  
Eponine burst into seemingly thousandth fit of laughter that night. "Oh yes! I slid and fell in the mud, completely dirtying my skirt! And you…you dropped your books to help me up! Oh Marius, you were too much of a gentleman! Your books were barely legible after that!" Eponine could hardly speak. Tears were rolling down from the corners of her eyes as her laughter shook her body.  
  
"Oh Ponine! We have such good memories," Marius said as his laughter died down. He reached across the table and pulled her hands into his and look wistfully into her eyes. He was silent for quite a while, looking into her eyes the whole time and Eponine thought she was in heaven. Finally he spoke. "Ponine, I-I'm still trying to figure out how you survived. Your little body died in my arms, but here you are! I know you so well, but yet you are a mystery to me!"  
  
Eponine leaned forward with love-stars in her eyes and said, "Marius, I've told you before! It wasn't a mystery why I am alive and talking to you right now. You were the only soul in the entire world who loved me…I didn't even love myself! You were the only one! And the fact that I knew this before I lost consciousness kept my spirit fighting! Marius, I owe my life to you. You are my saviour. I love you, Marius."   
  
Eponine tensed. How could I be so stupid? she thought. Marius is married and I just told him that I love him! Oh, I am going to be so hurt, so rejected! Steel yourself, Ponine. You have returned to the former and Marius is going to love you, but never openly and never in the way you love him.  
  
Eponine waited for the oncoming blow: the shifted eyes, the 'so sorry Ponine' speech, the retreat from her love like it was the Plague.  
  
Yet to Eponine's surprise, Marius stood up, pulled her to him, and gave her a hug. A tight hug that consoles, is consoled, and where there exists a fear to let go. Eponine clung to him tightly and relished his warm body against hers, his strong arms around her. She wanted to hold him forever. She never wanted the night to end. She wanted to be his, have his babies, and give him all the love endless love she had for him. But he was forbidden fruit. She felt helpless because of that fact, but she smothered the thought and wrapped her arms tighter around him.   
  
Against Marius, she felt her love expand into a flame of passion. The massive amount champagne she had thoughtlessly consumed took hold of her and she want to kiss him, make him forget about Cosette, make him forget about his marriage. That struck match had grown into a bonfire in his arms and she wanted to cover him with kisses and show him what fierce love she could give him when the lights go out. But she couldn't forget about Cosette.  
  
There was a cough behind her. "Marius?" It was Cosette. Eponine reluctantly let go of Marius as she slid out from his hold and turned around. Surprisingly, Cosette didn't look in any way angry or annoyed. She, in fact, looked happy. Perhaps Cosette just wasn't feeling earlier, thought Eponine. Maybe my earlier impression of her was wrong.  
  
Cosette looked apologetic as she said, "I'm sorry Marius, but I'm exhausted. It's nearly three o'clock in the morning and I think it is better if we left."  
  
"Yes, of course, Cos," said Marius, nervously. "I guess it is getting pretty late. Why don't you go get our coats and I will meet you in the foyer." Cosette smiled sweetly at Eponine and walked quietly away.  
  
Marius turned to Eponine. "This is not the last time we will see each other, Ponine," he said as he put his hand under her chin. Eponine wanted to sing with the way his eyes were penetrating into hers. "I will come to visit you tomorrow and we will continue our…conversation. I'm determined to keep you in my life, Ponine. I'm not letting you go this time."  
  
Marius tore his eyes away from hers and turned and walked away. Eponine kept looking after him afraid, so afraid that this would be the last time she would see him. In the distance, amidst a small crowd of people leaving, Marius turned around with that same lovelorn look on his face that she had worn so many times when she was loath to walk away from him. Eponine felt heavy inside like she was going to cry. This is not the barricade, Eponine said to herself. We will see each other tomorrow. We will.  
  
For some reason Eponine could not explain, she felt impending doom. She had a premonition that something terrible would happen…and that it would involve Marius. Why do I feel such a chill of fear inside? she wondered.  
  
"Are you ready to return home?" said a voice behind her.  
  
Eponine turned around. No wonder, she thought. Antoine was near. She sighed. "Yes, let's go. I've been out far, far longer than I had told Uncle Erik I would be," she said. Suddenly, she smiled. "Yet, I think he won't mind very much once I tell him why."  
  
"Yes, you and Marius," Antoine said knowingly.  
  
Eponine's eyes narrowed. "How do you know?" she asked sharply.  
  
Antoine smirked. "Just because Cosette and I are not very fond of each other, does not mean that we don't speak."  
  
Eponine felt a bit deflated. She didn't like it at all that Antoine knew about her and her situation. It made it too easy for him to guess her thoughts and emotions. As much as Eponine hated it, she knew Antoine was a very intuitive man.  
  
Antoine offered her a glass of champagne. "To you and Pont-I mean, Marius," he said as he raised his own glass.  
  
Eponine raised the one he handed her. "Thank you," she said. She couldn't help smiling at mention of Marius. They clinked their glasses together and drank.  
  
"All right…we'd better go so you can get as early a start as possible tomorrow," said Antoine. Eponine couldn't understand why Antoine was being so considerate and…somewhat motherly. It was as if he turned into a controlling, authoritative villain to an older brother in the course of a couple of hours. He ushered Eponine to the foyer and fetched their coats. He helped her put on her coat before he even looked at his. Is he tired? thought Eponine. Is that why he is suddenly acting like a gentleman to me?  
  
Antoine helped Eponine into the carriage and sat down next to her. Eponine looked into his eyes and still saw that cold grey gleam in them. Except this time, the gleam was slightly blurry. She grasped onto her seat to hold herself steady. What's wrong with me? she thought. I hadn't had THAT much champagne.  
  
She turned to Antoine and leaned back for his blurry figure seemed to loom over her. "What's wrong?" he said in a muddled voice. "Dear Eponine, how much champagne did you have tonight? You look so tired."  
  
Everything seemed to be swimming like she was looking through a fishbowl. She felt like she was sinking. She closed her eyes, but it didn't help. She tried to pull herself up by grabbing onto a leather hold-and accidentally onto Antoine's thigh.  
  
"Eponine…" said Antoine's faraway voice. "You just lie back and let me take care of you…" And just before Eponine passed out, she felt his hot lips caressing her neck. 


	11. "You Are Mine."

**Standard disclaimer still applies.  
  
A/N: EponineG, I can't quite say that I agree with you when you say that Javert was a "nasty bloke". True, Javert was an "enemy" of Valjean, but it's like the screech owl is the natural enemy to the barn mouse. The screech owl must hunt and eat its prey to survive. Javert's life revolved around his job. It was the environment and the frame of mind he was raised with. "Honest work/Just reward/That's the way to please the Lord". If the law told him Valjean was guilty, then yes, he would find him and bring him to the justice he was taught to administer to those he was told were criminals. He was taught to see only black and white and never the grey. His life was his duty to the law and when he let Valjean go, he felt he let himself go astray…and he thought himself no better than the criminals he committed his life to catching. Am I making any sense?  
  
Then again, I am very much influenced to be sympathetic with Javert because of the flinty and alluring voice of Philip Quast. Call me crazy. I'd marry him if he asked me just because of his fantastic singing voice. (Oh, and if he wasn't already married.) Who cares if he's 35 years (approx.) older than me? LOL  
  
Thanks a lot EponineG and everyone else for submitting reviews! I'd really love even more! (hint! hint!) Tee hee…  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Eponine slowly opened her eyes and looked groggily around her. The sun of midmorning shone through the window and birds chirped outside, singing merry songs as they made a stop in Paris for food before they continued their way to the south. Eponine herself was nestled snugly in white sheets, warm with the sun shining on her face. She shook her head, trying to get that heavy feeling out of her head often associated with her drinking too much champagne the night before.  
  
Eponine lied silent for a moment thinking about the night before. Marius! she nearly shrieked aloud. Marius is alive and well and he is going to see me today! Eponine lay in happy thought for minutes more until she tried to remember the end of the night. She wrinkled her brow in confusion. Why can't I remember leaving the mansion? she wondered in alarm. I don't remember even checking in on Uncle Erik!  
  
She decided to get right out of lying around and daydreaming and threw off the blanket and was completely taken aback when she realized she was totally naked. "Where is my night gown?" she whispered in surprise.  
  
Suddenly a lanky arm reached from the other side of the bed and pulled her closer. "Where do you think you're going?" asked Antoine sleepily as he kissed the back of her neck. Eponine' eyes widened in terror. Suddenly, ALL the events of the night came rushing back to her…little snippets of muddled memory. Antoine kissing her neck while his hand traveled up her dress, moaning into her ear as he made love on top of her, his sickening laugh, his cries of pleasure, his cruel mouth over hers, and his dangerous grey eyes looking into hers with dominance. I've been raped! she thought with horror. Raped! Raped by Antoine!  
  
A low sob escaped her throat as she wrenched herself away from him, but his strong arms reached further and grabbed her, pulling her naked body firmly against his. "I said, where do you think you're going?" demanded Antoine, his voice completely awake.  
  
Eponine didn't even answer him. Her mind raced through her memories as she felt that familiar stone of misery unsettle in the well of her stomach once more. There is no escaping it, she thought. No way to escape this wretched life. There will always be something or someone to kill my joy.  
  
Her joy. She considered her joy Marius. His laughing face, his graceful walk, his eyes as blue as the endless ocean. Where was he now? Lying in bed with Cosette, she answered her own thought. And right now, she was lying in Antoine's bed. She felt like vomiting.  
  
Two silver tears slithered down her face and she quickly wiped them away as she felt her throat swell and her face grow hot. She sensed a foreboding that seemed to swell like a restless dragon, swearing to release hell upon her for reawakening it…ready to scorch her with its fire and smite her with its tail. Swallow your useless tears, Eponine. Never shall your happiness last, it hissed inside her mind.  
  
As if Antoine could sense her thoughts, he put his lips ever so close to her ear and whispered softly like a lover, but with deadly words. "You belong to me now, Eponine. Do you understand that? You are mine." He kissed her lobe and pushed his tongue inside her ear, making her pull away. He yanked her head back toward him and roughly grabbed her chin and turned it so they were face to face, eye to eye. "Did you not hear me you worthless bag of trash?" he growled. His stormy grey eyes looked at her with anger and triumph. "Don't you DARE defy me!" His whisper was low and menacing. He brought his lips to her ear again. "If you do, dear Eponine, I will bring down the one you love most."  
  
Eponine stiffened. Marius!  
  
"Now, where was I?" Antoine asked before he continued fondling her ear with his tongue. He pulled a heavy leg over her and she could feel his arousal press against her thigh. She knew his main pleasure was his dominance and was determined not to let him have his way. Antoine smothered her neck with kisses and moved down her chest toward her breasts as his hand made its way down between her legs.  
  
She looked at him steadily with apprehension…trying to look like she was going to give in to him. Eponine waited for the right moment for enough room to give her the leverage she needed. When he finally took his eyes away from hers, she balled her right fist, pulled her arm back and punched him as hard as she could.  
  
"You bastard! You think that you can try that with me?! Rape me once? Rape me twice?" she screamed as he jerked back, crying out curses as he held his bleeding nose. With that, Eponine pulled her knees to her chest and kicked him in the stomach with both her feet, sending him tumbling over the foot of the bed. He landed with a loud thump and a painful yelp. Quickly, she jumped off the bed and searched for anything to cover her naked body. Finding nothing, she yanked a sheet off the bed and wrapped it around her as she tried to run out of the room.  
  
But Antoine was quick. "Come here, you wretched bitch," he muttered while he reached over and pulled onto the sheet, causing her to trip and fall on her elbows, giving her a startling shock. Before he could grab her feet, she pulled her leg back and kicked him in the face, making him cry out even harder.  
  
"You stupid bull! I've handled worse trash than you before!" she cried, her voice taking on that rough edge she had when she lived as a Thénardier. She scrambled onto her feet as she gave him one more kick in the abdomen since he was covering his face. "Don't you ever pull a 'Parnasse on me, you idiotic jackass!" she screamed before she ran out of his bedroom.  
  
Eponine's thoughts were in a whirl. Her chest was heaving with every frightened and tense breath she inhaled. Miraculously, there was no one about to bear witness to Eponine wearing nothing but one of Antoine's bed sheets. She wrenched her door open and slammed it shut, wondering if her life was going to end today or tomorrow. Was Antoine already storming down the hall, with his nose bleeding down his naked front and murder on his mind, or was he going to play cat and mouse and take his time?  
  
"…Don't you DARE defy me…If you do, dear Eponine, I shall bring down the one you love most…"  
  
Eponine panicked again. The one she loved most! Oh Lord, help me! she prayed. He's going to hurt Marius, his own friend, just to get back at me!  
  
She stripped the sheet away and went to her washbasin to clean herself. "Bastard," she muttered as she noticed the bite marks he'd left on her thighs from last night. It felt like a chore to lift her aching leg since she had somewhat calmed down. Tears started streaming down her cheeks and flooding her vision as she tried not to remember or imagine what he'd done to her. She tried not to think about the possibility of giving birth to his baby nine months from now. She quickly washed down her body and put on a clean riding habit.  
  
But she didn't leave her room right away. She stayed in her room and paced, thinking about everything that had happened. Marius, their dancing…Cosette, her anger…Antoine, his rape.  
  
She sat down on her bed and buried her face in her sheets. Finally, she started bawling. Crying so hard that it hurt her already fatigued body as the realization of everything came upon her. Before, her mind was in turmoil. Now, everything was suddenly so real…and so very frightening. Antoine raped me, she thought with her eyes squeezed shut and her cries smothered into her sheets. He took advantage of my inebriation and raped me! What would Uncle Erik say if he found out? And Marius, what is going to happen to him? What if I'm pregnant? What if I have that demon's baby? What will happen to me?  
  
Her thoughts circled and collided and circled around again and again until she fell asleep from her emotional exhaustion… 


End file.
